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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26432287">Dinner &amp; Diatribes</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/GaylamityJane/pseuds/GaylamityJane'>GaylamityJane</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Andy is just trying to keep the peace 24/7, Bella is an overprotective HBIC, F/F, Hermione just wants her fucking crossbow back, Narcissa is a spoiled brat, Sane Bellatrix Black Lestrange</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 04:01:25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,454</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26432287</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/GaylamityJane/pseuds/GaylamityJane</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The Order of the Phoenix operates as Europe's oldest society of vampire hunters, and Hermione Granger is among its most distinguished members. It's too bad that she has a hero complex the size of Antarctica and a curiosity that's even more insatiable than Bellatrix Black's bloodlust.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hermione Granger/Bellatrix Black Lestrange</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>196</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hermione Granger was a gifted hunter. Having spent most of her life studying tome-thick texts written about (and even by) vampires, she prided herself on being something of an expert when it came to their weaknesses. She was especially talented at strategic attacks that required less physical combat; explosives triggered by meticulously placed trip wires and razor-sharp bone saws hung from swinging pendulums. Swift but effective killings were her trademark.</p><p>When Dumbledore had given her the task of trailing after the vampire known as Narcissa Black, he’d done so on the grounds of having respect for her hunting style.</p><p>The Black sisters were somewhat notorious to the European underground. Clever and elusive creatures with centuries of experience, they often fell somewhere between myth and legend. Many hunters claimed to have seen them throughout the years, but none had ever managed to capture one. Few ever survived getting close enough to try.</p><p>Thankfully, Hermione didn’t need to get close. In fact, her orders had been quite the opposite—maintain a safe distance, do not engage, and obtain as much information as possible so that the Order could update their files adequately.</p><p>Never one to defy an order, Hermione had spent the better part of the last two weeks following Narcissa’s trail. She noted that the vampire was alone the entire time; possibly on some sort of solitary hunting trip, as her sisters were nowhere to be found.</p><p>Admittedly, the file Hermione had been given was quite sparse. It seemed that the Order had very little information on the Black sisters, and Dumbledore himself had even acknowledged that most of what they did possess could have just as easily been pure speculation. The Order had been observing the Black sisters for almost a century, and the thought of not having any concrete facts about them was surely a sore spot. Hunters were prideful about their work. It wouldn’t be too far fetched to assume that a small portion of information was creatively worded bullshit.</p><p>Still, Hermione tried her best to cross-reference the sources at her disposal. In doing so, she came to the conclusion that she knew, with absolute certainty, that there were three Black sisters, all of whom were derived from an ancient noble house that had gone extinct sometime during the Victorian Era. Their father had been some sort of high-ranking aristocrat, with some sources claiming that he’d been a marchess and others claiming that he’d been a duke. A detailed browse through several 19th-century editions of Debrett's Peerage &amp; Baronetage provided Hermione with nothing more than a name—<i><b>BLACK, CYGNUS</b></i>—followed by a mysteriously blank page.</p><p>Where there was meant to be a full explanation of title and lineage, equipped with important dates and predecessors and collateral branches, there was nothing. Absolutely nothing in every single dusty edition that Hermione could get her hands on. It was as if the Black family had been purposely wiped out of history; as if they themselves were determined to remain forgotten forever. Which, truthfully, was within the realm of possibility. The Black sisters were mysterious creatures, but their abilities could easily extend to illusion charms and visual manipulation, as many vampires were known to have possessed such magic.</p><p>Once Hermione resigned herself to her inability to discover any new information on the Black family, she chose to focus on Narcissa herself. The vampire’s trail was quite precise, if not predictable. Her victims of choice were powerful aristocrats and socialites; primarily men but occasionally women as well, though it was worth noting that the former was always more similar in nature than the latter. Narcissa preferred to feed off of blonde men with distinguished features and a great deal of their own wealth. Her preferences for women were only narrowed down to rich, beautiful, and decisively tasteful in their fashion choices.</p><p>Throughout her observations, Hermione noted that Narcissa wasn’t particularly violent in her feedings; instead preferring to leave her victims… well, in a final state of bliss, as it were. Which told Hermione that the vampire preferred to use her preternatural charms to tempt her victims into bed, play their bodies like a fiddle, and then drain them in more ways than one—speculation that Hermione fumbled through describing three times before she found a wording that didn’t cause her cheeks to blaze with embarrassment.</p><p>It took several days to finally catch up with Narcissa, and Hermione had barely managed to achieve that. Using the path they’d traveled and a considerable hunch derived from the vampire’s feeding habits, she discovered Narcissa almost too late and, to Hermione’s abject horror, in the midst of her habitual… feeding preparations.</p><p>“Oh! Oh please!”</p><p>Having climbed the wrought iron gates of Rosebury Estate undetected, Hermione’s silent footfalls across the sprawling grounds went unnoticed. Using the lush flora and fauna to her advantage, she found Narcissa and her playmate in the courtyard of an elaborately decorated English garden. The vampire had the Duchess of Hampshire splayed flat atop a stone picnic table, looming over her and whispering words as soft as velvet against the shell of her ear. One hand massaged the duchess’s breast while the other was submerged beneath her skirt, scratching itches that Hermione purposely chose not to think about. Although, it was obvious that Narcissa knew exactly what she was doing since the woman beneath her was mewling and gyrating against her touch like a feral cat in heat.</p><p>“Please, please don’t stop!" The duchess begged. "You’re right there! Yes—<i>Yes</i>, right there!”</p><p>With her crossbow aimed and ready from her hiding place, Hermione zeroed in on her target. Narcissa was quite tall; a slender figure around five feet and nine inches, provided the hunter’s estimate was correct (It was rather hard to tell, as she was reclined across the duchess like a blanket of silvery blonde lust). Hermione couldn’t make out her face, but she didn’t have to. Narcissa was sufficiently distracted and in an ideal position from where she was angled—her unbeating heart perfectly accessible for an ultraviolet arrow to pierce straight through.</p><p>Hermione took a steadying breath, placed her finger on the trigger, and… </p><p>
  <i>CRACK!</i>
</p><p>Excruciating pressure, followed by numbness, rushed across the vast radiance of her skull. Through the haze, she deciphered the sounds of feral hissing and panicked screams of terror. But everything turned to stifling darkness before she could act.</p>
<hr/><p>The first thing Hermione felt upon regaining consciousness was pain. White-hot, skull-splitting pain that made her ears ring and her stomach churn. She gasped as it bloomed, breath hitching in her throat, unsuccessfully willing herself to open her eyes. Her hands reached up to touch her head, to placate the relentless pounding, but she found that she couldn’t move her arms. In fact, she quickly found that she couldn’t move her legs either.</p><p>It took a moment for the realization to hit. The cold weight of cuffs locked around her wrists and ankles, cementing her to what felt like a bare thread mattress. Chains. She was in chains.</p><p>All-encompassing pain and panic clashed with one another, and Hermione wrenched her eyes open on adrenaline alone, heart racing as she surveyed her surroundings. She found herself in a dim, cold dungeon. Orange candlelight flickered across wet stone walls, revealing an overgrowth of green moss and the subtle shadows of an empty cot to her direct left, stained by substances she would rather not consider at the moment.</p><p>Stomach churning even further, she tried her best to clear her aching head. To slow her breathing down and assess whether or not she could use her current surroundings to her advantage. But even with all of her training and experience, Hermione fought an inward battle between level-headedness and lightheadedness. The temptation to remain calm fought against the temptation to hyperventilate, and she wasn’t entirely sure which side was winning.</p><p>A dark chuckle sounded from the shadows to her right, causing Hermione’s entire body to freeze.</p><p>“My, my, my…” A voice as soft as velvet echoed throughout the empty space. “Just listen to that heartbeat.”</p><p>The room was far too vast; each syllable flooded throughout the unoccupied territory. Hermione couldn’t determine whether its owner was a safe distance from her, or too close for comfort. Although, given the circumstances, she decided that any distance was too close for comfort.</p><p>“Who are you?!” Hermione demanded, scowling into the inky black curtain of nothing.</p><p>The voice chuckled. “I believe I should be the one asking that of you.”</p><p>“Who I am is none of your business!”</p><p>“Oh?” Somehow, the voice became even softer, and yet, nearly twice as menacing. “I beg to differ, hunter. After all, I prefer to become acquainted with every <i>wretched meatsack</i> who tries to kill me.”</p><p>The pieces fell into place a half-second before her interrogator stepped out into the light. Narcissa Black’s silvery blonde hair shone golden in the candlelight, just bright enough to reflect off of milky skin and eyes as blue as glaciers. Even under these circumstances, the vampire looked remarkably regal; donning a delicate choker of pearls and an off-shoulder, emerald green gown that displayed her collarbones and accentuated every curve of her figure before it flared out at the waist, making her appear even more slender than she was.</p><p>“You!” Hermione spat, struggling against her restraints. “Where is the duchess? What have you done with her!”</p><p>“You dare to demand things from me, hunter?” Despite her soft tone of voice, a dangerous glint flashed in Narcissa’s eyes. Hermione was reminded that she was not dealing with some elegant waif of a princess. She was dealing with a cold-blooded monster.</p><p>“Cissy,” A different voice hissed from the surrounding darkness, a bit louder than Narcissa’s but equally as fluid to Hermione’s ears. “Bella said we’re not supposed to be in here!”</p><p>Glacier-blue eyes roll in annoyance. “Bella says a lot of things, Andy.”</p><p>“Yes, but—”</p><p>“Were you not just saying last night that we needed to keep her under surveillance?”</p><p>Narcissa wasn’t even looking in Hermione’s direction anymore. Instead, she was staring into the unrelenting darkness with crossed arms and a raised brow.</p><p>“I know what I said last night, Cissy. But Bella—”</p><p>“If it were up to Bella, she would already be <i>dead</i>.” Hermione swallowed thickly, suddenly grateful that this Bella individual was nowhere to be found. “However, we both agree that we need to keep her under surveillance to ensure that she hasn’t been followed. You said as much last night, Andy. She could even have information. We just need to get it out of her.”</p><p>On second thought, perhaps Bella would provide her with a death that was much less excruciating than whatever Narcissa had in mind for extracting information out of her. Information which, truthfully, Hermione wasn’t entirely sure she possessed in the first place.</p><p>“I understand that, Cissy. But Bella clearly stated—”</p><p>“Bellatrix is not our mother, Andy.”</p><p>“Narcissa.” A third voice echoed throughout the darkness, causing the others to immediately silence. This voice was the near antithesis of Narcissa’s; remarkably lower in pitch and as smooth as butter. Rather than caressing Hermione’s ears like audible velvet, it did something quite different. Entirely unprepared for it, she found the hair on the back of her neck rising in a manner that was—to her disgust—blindingly pleasurable.</p><p>For what it was worth, Narcissa didn’t lower her head in shame. Instead, she greeted the new voice with a proud chin and a tightened jaw. “Bellatrix. I was only trying to―”</p><p>“Make matters worse?” Bellatrix interrupted, with an air of casualty that somehow felt more threatening to Hermione than Narcissa’s promise to extract information out of her. “Yes, because surely, you haven’t created a right mess of things already.”</p><p>“I didn’t mean to—”</p><p>“Go to bed, Narcissa.”</p><p>It was rather surprising; both the order itself and the way that Narcissa’s spine straightened upon hearing it. With the physical appearance of a woman nearing thirty and a true lifespan that was almost certainly within the hundreds, the thought of Narcissa being treated like a spoiled child was vaguely comical. Or at least, ironic enough to ensure that Hermione just barely contained her snort of disbelief.</p><p>Narcissa must have heard it anyway because she sent Hermione a withering glare that was icy enough to chill her to the very core. But without further ado, she begrudgingly followed Bellatrix’s orders, head held high as she gracefully stepped forward and allowed the darkness to engulf her once more. Hermione listened carefully for footsteps, but silence was the only sound that greeted her.</p><p>And then, that same silk-smooth voice arose from the endless nothing.</p><p>“I will deal with <i>you</i> tomorrow, hunter.”</p><p>Hermione did her best to ignore the goosebumps that rose in response, holding her breath until the soft click of a door being closed confirmed that she was finally alone with her own thoughts.</p><p>Now she just had to think of a way to get out of here.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>While it's not terribly dark (from my own perspective), this chapter does include some interrogation so it isn't the most lighthearted scene either. Bellatrix is searching for answers and reveals a bit of surprising information to Hermione in the process.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There were no windows in the dungeon, nor were there any cracks in its wet stone walls. The only light source derived from the dim orange glow of candles that never seemed to burn out. As day and night melded into one, Hermione lost track of time. She faded in and out of consciousness, too stubborn to sleep very deeply but too weak to keep her eyelids from closing all the same. Her head was still pounding. Her thoughts raced with daydreams of escape, but none of them could truly come to fruition until she was free from her chains.</p><p>Were it not for a severe lack of energy, Hermione’s anger and frustration at her situation would have turned into an all-consuming fury. Not unlike the kind that had caused her to purposely sabotage her own mission in the first place. Do not engage, Dumbledore had warned. It was much easier said than done when someone’s life was in danger and she possessed the know-how to save them. Or at least… she’d <i>assumed</i> she possessed the know-how to save them.</p><p>Hermione inwardly berated herself. She should’ve known better. She <i>did</i> know better, most of the time. How could she have been so stupid? Now, for all she knew, the duchess was dead and Hermione’s recklessness was the very thing that nudged her unfortunate fate along.</p><p>Stupid, stupid, stupid!</p><p>When that same buttery-smooth voice echoed out once again, it was almost a welcome reprieve from Hermione’s own internal upbraiding. Almost.</p><p>“Are you comfortable, hunter?,” the voice asked from the darkness.</p><p>“Oh yes, I am the epitome of luxury,” Hermione spat out.</p><p>The voice chuckled darkly. “I should hope so. You and I have much to discuss.”</p><p>“Such as?”</p><p>“Well, we can start with why you followed my sister for an entire fortnight.”</p><p>Hermione gritted her teeth. The air of casualty in which the vampire spoke made her blood boil within her veins. “Where is the duchess?”</p><p>“She is alive,” the voice assured. “I admit that cleaning up Narcissa’s messes has always been quite… frustrating. But regardless of her actions, I do not take kindly to your people constantly tracking my family down like bloodhounds.”</p><p>Were Hermione not in the predicament she was, she might have laughed. Surely, the creature could see the irony in her words—vampires being tracked like bloodhounds while they themselves coaxed innocent humans to their deaths like lambs to the slaughter.</p><p>“Funny,” she said. “We do not take kindly to your people killing us for food.”</p><p>“Not all of us kill for food, Hermione.”</p><p>The hunter couldn’t help but startle at that. Her anger quickly gave way to something closer to fear, blooming icily within her chest. “How… How do you know my name?”</p><p>“I know far more than you might think,” the voice replied. “Did he give you a reason?”</p><p>“Who?”</p><p>“Albus. Did he explain why he wanted you to trail after Narcissa?”</p><p>“How—”</p><p>“I acknowledge that you have a head injury, but surely it hasn't turned you deaf.”</p><p>“No…” Hermione admitted, albeit hesitantly. “He didn’t.”</p><p>“Now, why do you think that is?”</p><p>“Well I assume it’s because he knew that I—”</p><p>“It’s because he knew that he would lose his best hunter if you were aware of the truth.”</p><p>“The truth about what?” What sort of game was this vampire playing at?</p><p>“There are many things you aren’t aware of, Hermione,” the voice explained. “Albus Dumbledore may seem like a hero, but he is a multifaceted man of many layers, most of which exist solely for the sake of striving toward his own selfish desires.”</p><p>“How do you know Albus Dumbledore?” Hermione asked. It didn’t make sense, the idea that a creature as mysterious and elusive as a Black sister could somehow possess such intimate knowledge about the head of the Order. It had to be a trick. Vampires had a tendency to do that, from her experience. Now that they’d captured her, there was nothing stopping the Black sisters from slowly but surely tormenting her, be it physically or mentally, until all she could hope for was mercy.</p><p>But vampires weren’t known for being merciful either. “That’s <i>hardly</i> a concern of yours.”</p><p>Before she could refrain from doing so, Hermione scoffed. “If you didn’t want me asking questions, you shouldn’t have mentioned it to begin with.”</p><p>There was a pause, and Hermione realized perhaps a hair too late that she’d crossed a line. It was never a good idea to mouth off to one’s captors; particularly the sort that wanted to drink your blood, and furthermore, possessed the physical strength to snap your neck like a twig.</p><p>Her warning manifested in the silent footfalls of her interrogator; dark eyes and ink-black waves emerging from behind the curtain of darkness. If Narcissa was attractive, Bellatrix was downright stunning—there was simply no other word to describe her. She was a vision of jet black taffeta, shapely hips, and sleeves crafted from delicate lace; a feminine personification of midnight itself. Remarkably, she had a few inches on Narcissa, and considerably more pride if her burgundy-red smirk had any say in the matter. </p><p>She didn’t need to lift a finger; her very appearance snatched Hermione’s breath away.</p><p>A glinting gaze slid down Hermione’s splayed body, drinking in her slender, toned figure. Hermione wasn’t self-conscious in the least, having spent most of her adult life training to the point of maintaining a healthy, and perhaps more importantly, agile physique. But something about Bellatrix’s attention caused a wave of heat to creep up her neck, which was immediately squashed down by abject disgust.</p><p>“What?” she asked, gritting her teeth for good measure.</p><p>Bellatrix smirked, dark eyes glinting as she carefully eased herself down into a kneeling position. It allowed her to lean in uncomfortably close, causing Hermione to strain against her bindings in an attempt to put more space between them. </p><p>Bellatrix, however, looked more amused than offended. “You have such a pretty mouth. It’s a shame you waste its beauty by talking.”</p><p>“Excuse me?” Hermione demanded, turning her head to properly glare at the vampire. This was, in retrospect, a mistake. The glowing dim of the candlelight illuminated every contour of Bellatrix’s face; pronouncing the gentle curve of her cheekbones and the sharp, prominent outline of her jaw. Her eyes were so dark a brown, they were nearly black, allowing the glow of the candle flames to flicker within them in a way that was almost playful. Hermione found her breath hitch at just how attractive Bellatrix was—and, in turn, how much more dangerous that made her. </p><p>“I find it quite amusing,” The vampire brushed cold, featherlight knuckles across Hermione’s cheek. “Usually, our prisoners seem to do more screaming than speaking.”</p><p>Hermione made a feeble attempt to pull away, but found her movement restricted by the chains. So instead, she aimed for verbal defiance. “I don’t scream,” she bit out.</p><p>“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” Bellatrix grinned, wicked and cunning. She leered forward, the tip of her nose pressing against Hermione’s temple. “You’ll soon find that I can be very…” The same icy fingers brushed a delicate path down Hermione’s neck, caressing along her erratic pulse point. “Persuasive.”</p><p>Hermione shuddered. She couldn’t imagine—<i>wouldn’t</i> imagine—what Bellatrix had planned even before entering the dungeon, especially given her sisters’ conversation last night. The three of them had questions, but given how much Bellatrix already seemed to know about the Order, Hermione was entirely sure if she could provide answers that the vampires didn’t already have. And even if she did, Hermione would be damned if she gave them up without a fight.</p><p>“Oh trust me,” Hermione hissed, jerking as far back as her bindings would allow. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”</p><p>For a split second, their gazes met. Something dangerous flashed in Bellatrix’s eyes and her cunning, wicked grin crumbled into a grim frown as she straightened her posture.</p><p>It was the only warning Hermione was given before those long, cold fingers wrapped around her throat in a vice-like grip, ruthlessly compressing around her neck. In a wild, blind panic, Hermione tugged at her chains, mouth gaping open like a fish out of water to try and suck air into her lungs. But the vampire’s grip was so tight, her airway was restricted. </p><p>“I was going to be <i>nice</i>,” Bellatrix stressed, as if it was Hermione’s own fault that she was choking her. “I was going to give you anything you could’ve asked for, in exchange for just a few questions. Had you cooperated, I would’ve even considered letting you go.”</p><p>Hermione gaped in response, eyes squeezing shut. The metal cuffs bit into her wrists and ankles, but she didn’t stop struggling; ignoring the way the bolts bit into her flesh as she thrashed against Bellatrix’s hold—who, unfortunately, continued to clutch at the hunter’s throat as if she didn’t even register the fight that was being put up.</p><p>“Now?” Bellatrix practically growled the syllable out, cruel and heartless as she snarled into Hermione’s ear. “I don’t care if you <i>rot</i> in this dungeon.”</p><p>The vampire’s grip tightened to the point where Hermione’s ears popped. The pressure was so tight, something inside of her throat gave a foreboding creak. She tried to keep fighting, but Bellatrix knew exactly what she was doing. Hermione’s struggling came to a gradual halt; she grew sluggish within a matter of seconds, black spots swimming before her vision and a gruelling tension building at her temples. The dim candlelight of the dungeon flickered in and out of existence, and Hermione sagged with the delicious pull of sleep, her eyes fluttering closed as fatigue weighed down on her bones… </p><p>
  <i>SMACK!</i>
</p><p>Before sleep (or death) could embrace her, Bellatrix delivered a stinging slap to her cheek. With a strangled gasp, Hermione came to. She coughed raggedly, her lungs expanding inside of her ribs as they desperately pulled air in from the moss-damp cell. Her throat burned at the sudden intake, tender and bruised from its treatment. Her head pounded with the makings of a migraine.</p><p>Bellatrix didn’t care. She gave the hunter a few staggered breaths before her hand flung out again, cracking Hermione across the other cheek so violently, her head snapped to the side.</p><p>“Why were you following Narcissa?” Bellatrix growled.</p><p>“I…” Hermione coughed. “I don’t know.”</p><p>Bellatrix slapped the opposite cheek, inflaming its tender flesh and sending Hermione reeling from the force of the impact. “<i><b>Why?</b></i>”</p><p>“I <i>don’t</i> know.”</p><p>“WHY?” The next slap was hard enough to draw blood from Hermione’s gums.</p><p>Hermione spat a mouthful of crimson onto the rough stone floor, tears brimming in her eyes. She blinked hard, willing herself not to cry as she whispered back. “I don’t know.”</p><p>Either Bellatrix had grown bored of the interrogation, or she was beginning to accept the fact that the hunter really didn’t know the reasoning behind her agenda. It would seem that she was intimate with the Order—or at least its current organization head, whom she’d referred to by name and spoke about as if they’d already known one another. Perhaps the vampire was aware that Dumbledore never gave reasoning for anything he asked. Hermione suspected that it was the primary reason he preferred to keep others in his debt; dangling the answers they yearned for just out of their reach.</p><p>But then Bellatrix was roughly grabbing hold of the metal chains and standing to her full, towering height. She drew Hermione up with her, as if the hunter weighed little more than a feather, pulling her body up until Hermione’s limbs strained in protest; her arms and legs still held back by their cuffs. Bellatrix didn’t stop, however, raising Hermione up until she whimpered out loud at the pain. Even then, Belltrix held her firmly in place, keeping the tension unbearably taunt and the threat bubbling under the surface.</p><p>“What <i>do</i> you know, hunter?”</p><p>Hermione winced, drawing her shoulders back as much as the newfound, uncomfortable position would allow. “... I… I don’t know…”</p><p>Bellatrix released an impatient huff and cruelly increased the pressure, causing Hermione’s joints to forebodingly creak and groan in protest. “About <i>us</i>, you stupid girl. What does the Order know about the Black sisters?”</p><p>“N-nothing! Honestly! Even finding Narcissa’s trail had been sheer dumb luck!” Hermione babbled the confession in a single breath, and then inwardly berated herself for admitting so much out loud. As terrified as she was to lose her limbs, she could’ve just as easily lied about what the Order did and didn’t know. Or at the very least, stopped talking halfway through.</p><p>Briefly, something reminiscent of surprise flashed across Bellatrix’s features. However, just as quickly as it appeared, it was smoothed into a neutral expression. After a staggering moment of silence, the vampire unceremoniously dumped Hermione back down to the cot. Hermione huffed at the sudden drop, grateful though she was to keep her joints. </p><p>Brows knitting together, Bellatrix stared down at Hermione, contemplation swirling within the dark pools of her eyes. She looked as if she had even more questions than when the interrogation had begun, but now knew that she wouldn’t receive answers from the hunter in her possession.</p><p>Hermione parted her lips to speak, but the vampire straightened her posture out as if she’d come to some type of internal decision. Before Hermione could so much as blink, Bellatrix was gone—moving much faster than the human eye could process.</p><p>Her voice echoed from the darkness, stoic and foreboding.</p><p>“Enjoy your new home, <i>rat</i>.”</p><p>Hermione waited for the telltale click of a door being closed. And then, she allowed herself to grieve the loss of her freedom; her sobs reverberating off of the cold moss-slick walls.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Also a quick thank you to everyone who's stuck around this far! I know that it's been a while since I updated, but I appreciate the fact that readers are still interested in this story ^_^</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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